Spiraling worlds run through my mind
Each one speaking in each own voice
My ears are lost in a sea of screams
A shoal exists instead of depths
There are Mirrors displaying realities
But nothing reflects the one that’s true
Repeating the acts of another
Trying to get the results to change
There is a face that looks back at me
His hand protrudes from the mirror
He gives me a key and points at a door
And willfully he goads me to it
I try to fit the key to the door
But the lock changes shape
Trying to force the key in the keyhole
My hands are painted with blood.
My reality changes as someone else dies
Results I need are not there
Looking around in search of another
This time it will work for sure
Multiple keys for multiple doors
But I cant seem to find the right one
People are voices and ways to dimensions
Each one full of different potential
Maybe a lie these worlds I exist in
But for myself it seems only true
In the end was caught and locked in this cage
Where everything’s white night and day
Chemistry reigns and clouds my own thoughts
While my arms are tied behind my back.
But as I lie face down to the floor
I run through my Hall of Mirrors
Nu ką, nemaža tikimybė, kad vistik My Dying Bride nebus Kilkim Žaibu, atšaukė beveik visus šių metų pasirodymus. Tik organizatoriai kažkaip neskuba pranešti ir toliau reklamuoja..
guess I did make my name out of my drumming, and I have the big drum sets, and I'm doing all these crazy, odd-time signatures, so, yeah, I guess drumming was very important to what made me popular.